In the Slipstream

Published in 100 Words of Solitude Global Voices in Lockdown 2020

Guards at my local supermarket wearing black armbands like they’re grieving.

Grocery shop – side step, back step, wide. Our new choreography.

My neighbour is crying by the milk, she can’t see her son. We hug without touching.

Home.

House stuffy with what-ifs and jumbled feelings. Sweep them outside.

Tug the recycling bin out for collection. Load it up with our old normal. Old rhythms.

Kookaburras cavort in the gum trees laughing at the world as if there’s no void, no crossroads.

Prayers flutter upwards from the suburbs, cluttering the sky.

Curl around my purring tabby cat who always finds the sun.